"
"If it didn't," said Trot, "we'd never know where we were going."
"We don't know now," said the sailor. "One thing's certain, folks:
we're gett'n' a long way from home."
"And see how the clouds are rolling just above us," remarked the
boy, who was almost as uneasy as Cap'n Bill.
"We're in the sky, all right," said the girl. "If there could be an
island up here among the clouds, I'd think it was there we're
going."
"Couldn't there be one?" asked Button-Bright. "Why couldn't there be
an island in the sky that would be named Sky Island?"
"Of course not!" declared Cap'n Bill. "There wouldn't be anything to
hold it up, you know."
"What's holding US up?" asked Trot.
"Magic, I guess."
"Then magic might hold an island in the sky. Whee-e-e! What a black
cloud!"
It grew suddenly dark, for they were rushing through a thick cloud
that rolled around them in billows. Trot felt little drops of
moisture striking her face and knew her clothing was getting damp
and soggy. "It's a rain cloud," she said to Button-Bright, "and it
seems like an awful big one, 'cause it takes so long for us to pass
through it."
The umbrella never hesitated a moment. It made a path through the
length of the heavy, black cloud at last and carried its passengers
into a misty, billowy bank of white, which seemed as soft and fleecy
as a lady's veil.
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